Mahabharata

“In this world, when it was destitute of brightness and light, and enveloped all around in total darkness, there came into being, as the primal cause of creation, a mighty egg, the one inexhaustible seed of all created beings. It is called Mahadivya and was formed at the beginning of the yuga, the age, in which we are told was the true light Brahma, the eternal one, the wonderful and inconceivable being present alike in all places, the invisible and subtle cause, whose nature partakes of entity and non-entity.”

The imagery of light emerging from darkness evokes a cosmic dichotomy between creation and the void. This imagery combines with symbolism in the “mighty egg,” a symbol of the universe and the potential of all creation. The description of Brahma as “the eternal one, the wonderful and inconceivable being present alike in all places” draws on allegory: Brahma embodies the all-encompassing source of existence, a presence that is both “entity and non-entity,” reflecting the paradoxical nature of the divine, which is said to transcend human understanding.

“From the mystery of their meaning, no one is able, to this day, to penetrate those closely knit, difficult couplets. Even the omniscient Ganesha took a moment to consider while Vyasa continued to compose other verses in great abundance.”

Here, the ambiguity implicit in Ganesha’s reflection elicits reverence for the text's mystery, emphasizing its elusive nature. Ganesha’s momentary pause introduces subtle irony, as even the god of wisdom is stilled by the complexity of the verses. The image of Vyasa’s “great abundance” of verses conveys the richness and depth of the epic, suggesting a continuous flow of wisdom that remains ever expanding and intricate.

“As the sun dispels the darkness, so does the Bharata, with its discourses on religion, profit, pleasure, and final release, dispel the ignorance of men. As the full moon by its mild light expands the buds of the water lily, so have the Puranas, by exposing the light of what is heard or revealed through direct experience, expanded the human intellect. By the lamp of history, which destroys the darkness of ignorance, the whole mansion of nature is properly and completely illuminated.”

This simile likens the Bharata’s enlightening qualities to the sun’s power to banish darkness. This juxtaposition between knowledge and ignorance casts the Bharata as a force for intellectual awakening. The extended simile of the full moon’s “mild light” expanding the buds of the water lily casts the moon as the gentle illumination of wisdom, causing the human intellect to blossom. The phrase “lamp of history,” which destroys the darkness of ignorance, reinforces the metaphor of enlightenment as illumination, presenting history as an illuminating force that brings the vast structure of nature into clarity.

“Ganga, she is called, or Ma-Ganga, Mother Ganga. Daughter of the Himalayas and Menaka, the most beautiful of the Apsaras. She flows from the toes of Vishnu. She purifies the ashes of the sixty thousand sons of King Sagara.”

The goddess Ganga is personified as a divine, living entity with familial origins and transformative powers. Referred to as “Mother Ganga,” she carries both maternal and sanctifying qualities, underscoring her role as a deity who purifies and nurtures. Her origin from the “toes of Vishnu” is symbolic, suggesting that Ganga, as a river and deity, flows directly from divinity, imbued with a sacred purpose.

“For this he was cursed by Brahma: ‘Wretch, you have forgotten yourself. For staring at Ganga, you shall be reborn on earth and suffer the agonies of human beings. But again and again you shall attain to these regions. She, too, shall be born in the world of men and shall do you injuries. But when your wrath shall be provoked, then shall you be freed from my curse.’”

The epic uses dialogue as a vehicle for prophecy and punishment; here, Brahma’s speech is a solemn decree laden with irony, as the punishment brings both suffering and repeated elevation to celestial realms. The cyclical nature of rebirth and release from the curse suggests a balance of justice and redemption. The conditional release from the curse is also foreshadowing, setting up a future moment of reckoning.

“It was springtime, and the woods were as delightful as the gardens of the king of the Gandharvas. There were asokas, champakas, chutas, and atimuktas in abundance […] The whole forest was roused by the sweet notes of the blackbird and echoed with the hum of maddened bees.”

A simile compares the natural beauty of the forest and the celestial gardens of the gandharvas, evoking a sense of ethereal splendor. The sensory imagery in “sweet notes of the blackbird” and the “hum of maddened bees” heightens this enchanted atmosphere, merging visual beauty with sound and movement. The abundance of flowers, such as asokas, champakas, chutas, and atimuktas, enhances the imagery, creating a setting that mirrors both nature’s beauty and divine artistry.

“The child, with the permission of his mother, set his mind on asceticism. And he went away, saying: ‘Whenever you think of me and call upon me, whatever the occasion, I shall appear before you.’”

This statement is hyperbolic, emphasizing devotion and filial love to the extent of defying ordinary physical boundaries. The reassurance of continual support—“whatever the occasion”—underscores a timeless bond, infusing the relationship with a mythic quality that exemplifies ideals of loyalty and spiritual connection. The promise of reappearance made by a child adds a layer of irony and emotional depth, as one would typically expect such a commitment from a figure of authority or age, not from someone so young. This choice emphasizes the child’s precocious dedication and spiritual maturity, transcending the usual limitations of youth.

“I would renounce the three worlds, the empire of heaven, and anything greater than that, but I can never renounce truth.”

This declaration relies on hyperbole to convey an unwavering moral conviction, as renouncing realms as vast and exalted as “the three worlds” and “the empire of heaven” elevates the concept of truth to the highest ideal. The exaggerated scale of this vow emphasizes the impossibility of abandoning truth, reinforcing its supremacy as a guiding principle and elevating it above even the most extraordinary rewards.

“The Kurus grew in prosperity. The earth yielded abundant harvests, and the crops were of good quality […] It seemed that a golden age had come upon every part of the kingdom.”

The phrase “golden age” evokes the concept of the yugas, the cyclical ages in Hindu cosmology. This “golden age” symbolizes an era of harmony and abundance, reminiscent of the Satya Yuga, the first and most virtuous of the yugas. Here, the kingdom’s prosperity reflects an ideal where humanity and nature coexist in balance, evoking a world in alignment with cosmic order. The depiction also subtly foreshadows the inevitable descent into conflict and the harsher realities of later yugas, such as the Kali Yuga. In Hindu cosmology, each yuga follows a cycle of rise and decline, from purity and harmony in the Satya Yuga to chaos and moral degradation in the Kali Yuga. This flourishing era sets the stage for the eventual disintegration that leads to the epic’s central battle, highlighting the cyclical nature of time and destiny in Hindu thought.

“As soon as Duryodhana was born, he began to cry and bray like an ass […] The assembled Brahmanas and the wise Vidura replied: ‘O king, with these frightful omens at the birth of your eldest son, it is clear that Duryodhana shall be the exterminator of our race.’”

This description draws on symbolism to foreshadow Duryodhana’s ominous destiny. His cries, likened to an “ass’s bray,” convey a sense of discord and foretell misfortune, while the “frightful omens” surrounding his birth warn that Duryodhana’s life will bring turmoil to his family. The brahmanas’ prediction, that he will be “the exterminator of [their] race,” speaks to the inevitability of fate in the epic, linking Duryodhana’s character to a predestined cycle of destruction within the family.

“Nagas by the thousands bit him with their fangs, containing virulent venom. The serpents bit him all over his body except on his chest, where the skin was so tough that their fangs could not penetrate it. The snake poison neutralized the vegetable poison in the blood of the wind god’s son. Regaining consciousness, the son of Kunti burst his bonds and pressed the snakes down under the riverbed.”

The imagery of venomous snakes attacking draws on visual and sensory detail, underscoring the heroic resilience of the son of the wind god. The contrast between the snake venom and the unyielding strength of Bhima’s chest employs hyperbole, emphasizing his supernatural toughness and foreshadowing his eventual triumph. The interaction between the poisons further symbolizes a kind of cosmic balance, where one destructive force neutralizes another, highlighting the interplay between strength and adversity that characterizes many heroic figures in the epic.

“He who keeps his five senses under control can never be oppressed by his enemies.”

The statement imparts a moral lesson about self-control and inner strength. This emphasis on mastery over the senses elevates the concept of personal discipline to a form of spiritual armor, suggesting that one’s true strength lies within, beyond the reach of external threats. This reflects the Hindu concept of samadhi, a state of heightened consciousness achieved through discipline and meditation. The control over the senses symbolizes an inward journey where one transcends the distractions of the material world, aligning with particular yogic paths that lead to self-realization and spiritual liberation.

“‘Do not ever again kill human beings,’ he told them. ‘If you kill men, you will have to die, just as Vaka did.’ The Rakshasas said: ‘So be it.’ And they gave their promise.”

The warning serves as a moral allegory, reflecting the cyclical nature of violence and retribution. Bhima’s command connects actions to consequences, suggesting that acts of harm will inevitably return to the perpetrator. By agreeing to “never again kill human beings,” the rakshasas engage in a symbolic pact of restraint, choosing to break the cycle of violence and highlighting the transformative potential of choice and consent within the framework of karmic justice. This pledge reflects a shift toward dharma, or righteous action, suggesting that adherence to moral conduct can mitigate negative karma and lead to spiritual growth.

“By entering the chamber, I shall incur the penalty of an exile in the woods. But I do not care if I have to incur sin by disregarding the king, and I do not care if I have to go to the woods and die there. Virtue is superior to the body and lasts after the body has perished!”

Arjuna’s words reveal a dichotomy between the temporary nature of the physical body and the enduring essence of virtue. The body here is seen as temporary and subject to decay, while virtue, much like atman (an individual’s eternal soul), is perceived as eternal and transcendent. This distinction echoes the philosophy of transmigration, where the soul, bearing the imprint of one’s virtues and actions, passes on after physical death, continuing its journey toward liberation. By valuing virtue over the body, the speaker implicitly acknowledges that one’s actions and adherence to dharma will accompany the soul beyond physical existence, shaping future incarnations and ultimately steering the soul closer to moksha, or liberation from the cycle of birth and death.

“The rishi was most pleased and said to Yudhishthira the following words: ‘Is the wealth you are earning being spent in proper ways? Does your mind take pleasure in virtue? Are you enjoying the pleasures of life? Does your mind sink under their weight? Do you continue in the noble conduct, consistent with religion and wealth, practiced by your ancestors toward good, bad, and indifferent subjects? Do you injure religion for the sake of wealth, or both religion and wealth for the sake of pleasure?’”

These rhetorical and didactic questions emphasize the moral and ethical balance expected of a ruler, reflecting Hindu philosophy’s emphasis on dharma, or righteous duty. The rishi’s inquiries form a philosophical examination, revealing the internal conflict between wealth, pleasure, and virtue, drawing on the dichotomy between worldly desires and spiritual obligations. This dialogue explores the equilibrium that Yudhishthira must maintain, showing that adherence to dharma requires constant self-examination and restraint, especially when balancing wealth, pleasure, and virtue. The dialogue’s inclusion in this translation contrasts with Savitt’s decision to leave out a longer, more famous, and more influential discursive section, the Bhagavad Gita.

“Discontent is the root of prosperity. Therefore, I desire to be discontented.”

The statement reflects a twisted irony and a morally corrupt philosophy. Unlike constructive discontent that drives positive change, Duryodhana’s desire for discontent is self-serving, rooted in envy and ambition at the expense of kinship and ethical codes. His interpretation of prosperity reveals a willingness to forsake dharma and indulge in actions that breach familial bonds and societal values, suggesting a paradox in which his aim is founded on destruction rather than growth. This perspective reveals Duryodhana as a corrosive force, highlighting his relentless pursuit of power and the ways it blinds him to the virtues of harmony and duty. His words foreshadow the chaos and suffering that follow from pursuing prosperity through such morally bankrupt means, according to karma.

“The illustrious Dharma, remaining unseen, covered her with excellent clothes of many hues. And as the attire of Draupadi was being pulled, and one after another was taken off, a new one of the same kind appeared and covered her. And thus did it continue until many garments were piled at her feet. Owing to the protection of Dharma, hundreds upon hundreds of robes of many hues came off Draupadi’s person.”

The quote uses symbolism, with dharma personified as an invisible protector, embodying divine justice and unwavering support for Draupadi’s honor. As her garments multiply endlessly, hyperbole amplifies the miracle, showing Dharma’s (synonymous in this case with Krishna’s) inexhaustible power to protect virtue. This miraculous display of protection signifies the triumph of righteousness over humiliation.

“Bhima approached him, like a Himalayan lion bearing down upon a jackal, and rebuked him: ‘Villain, your raving is sinful! You pierce our hearts with these arrowy words. So shall I pierce your heart in battle, remembering this day.’”

The simile contrasts Bhima’s strength and courage, presenting Bhima as a force of justice and intimidation. His rebuke, comparing his adversary’s insults to “arrowy words,” employs metaphor to equate verbal attacks with physical assault, underscoring the gravity of the insult in warrior culture. Bhima’s promise to pierce his opponent’s heart in battle mirrors the emotional wound he feels, fusing language and action in a declaration of retribution that reflects the fierce loyalty and honor-bound nature of the warrior’s code.

“Do not act vainly. Like a reader of the Vedas incapable of catching their real meaning, cast your eyes on the duties of your own order, as ordained by the self-created. Do not ask whether the era is the cause of the king or the king the cause of the era, for it is certain that the king is the cause of the era. A king of wicked deeds resides in hell for countless ages. The king’s sins taint the world, and the world’s taint him. Observe your kingly duties that befit your ancestry.”

A simile cautions against shallow adherence to duty, comparing vanity to superficial Vedic study that misses profound truths. This metaphor extends to emphasize the importance of understanding and honoring one’s dharma, urging a focus on duties aligned with divine order rather than intellectual or spiritual vanity. By stating, “the king is the cause of the era,” the passage underscores the king’s pivotal role (and the individual’s role in general) in shaping the moral and spiritual state of the world. The cyclical “tainting” of the king and world emphasizes the interconnectedness between individuals and the realm, illustrating a karmic relationship that underscores Hindu ideas of collective responsibility and cosmic order.

“Do not disgrace your soul, O son, by anticipations of failure. In any act, the attainment of success is uncertain. Knowing that success is uncertain, people still act, so that they sometimes succeed and sometimes do not. But they who abstain from action never obtain success. In the absence of exertion, there is but one result, which is failure.”

This moral lesson stresses the value of action over inaction. The assertion that “the attainment of success is uncertain” introduces an existential understanding of action and fate, emphasizing that in human endeavors, action does not guarantee success, yet inaction guarantees failure. This dichotomy highlights the necessity of exertion regardless of uncertainty, encapsulating a belief that one’s duty is to act without attachment to outcomes, resonant with the Bhagavad Gita’s teachings on acting with karma yoga (equanimity).

“There is victory where Krishna is. Victory is inherent in Krishna. Indeed, it follows him. And as victory is one of his attributes, so is humility another.”

Krishna here is a personification of divine success and victory. This portrayal fuses symbolism and allegory, linking Krishna’s attributes to virtues that followers are encouraged to emulate. By suggesting that victory “follows” Krishna, the phrase also implies an inseparable connection between righteousness and success, where Krishna’s humility underscores his moral supremacy. The juxtaposition of victory and humility as twin attributes emphasizes that true power is coupled with modesty, illustrating an ideal of leadership rooted in strength and in humility.

“Krishna, robed in yellow silk and as dark as the lapis lazuli, looked as beautiful as a mass of clouds charged with lightning as he pursued Bhishma.”

Krishna’s dark, almost otherworldly skin tone, compared to the deep blue of the gemstone lapis lazuli, evokes divinity: Dark blue or black skin often symbolizes the infinite and the cosmic mystery in Hinduism. His coloring thus reflects the boundless and unfathomable nature of the universe, hinting at his role as a manifestation of the supreme, all-encompassing reality (Brahman). This imagery connects Krishna to the vast, eternal qualities of creation, presenting him as both human and transcendent. The “yellow silk” further intensifies this divinity, as yellow in Hinduism often represents wisdom and spiritual enlightenment. This contrast between dark and radiant colors conveys both power and grace, as Krishna’s form embodies both strength and calmness.

“O Yudhishthira, this law is incapable of being transgressed: death takes all—gods, Dhanavas, and Gandharvas—without exception.”

The statement asserts a universal truth about the inevitability of mortality. By including both divine and supernatural beings, the statement underscores the impartial and all-encompassing nature of death, using enumeration to heighten the law’s absolute authority. This reminder about mortality reflects the Hindu philosophical view of samsara, or the cycle of life and death, as an inescapable truth that binds all beings regardless of power or status.